


Freshly Coated.

by Bunnywest



Series: Suit 'Verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Stetopher Week 2018, Suits verse, abuse of a perfectly good coat, prompt: fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 21:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter has a thing for fall fashions.After seeing him wearing them, Stiles can see why.





	Freshly Coated.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Stetopher week! I'm setting everything in Suit 'Verse, because, well, I can.  
> Today's prompt is Fall.  
> Set shortly after Stiles moves in, but before he takes the bite.

 

Stiles gives Peter some serious side-eye when Peter walks up the stairs humming happily to himself. He's  suspiciously chipper, considering the busy-ass week Stiles knows they’ve had at the store.  Peter dramatically throwing himself across the nearest bed or couch on a Friday afternoon and declaring that he _just can’t deal_ with another idiot customer and he needs someone to pamper him is a regular occurrence in their house. Peter coming home late and smiling as he carries a big box of something upstairs is…not.  Stiles glances at Chris, to see him watching Peter as well, wearing an amused expression. “Hey, what’s up with Perkywolf over there? It’s Friday night, why isn’t he bitching about how hard he’s worked?”

“He’s excited. one of his favorite times of year starts tomorrow,” Chris replies. 

Stiles frowns in confusion. “What, September? Why? September’s a nothing month. October I could understand, because Halloween. Speaking of which, do you guys just, y’know,” Stiles mimes claws and a snarl,” as a costume? Cause that would be badass.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Yes Stiles, we use our shift as a Halloween costume, because tactics like that will definitely keep our existence a secret.”

“Huh. I guess you have a point.” Chris looks particularly fine, sitting there in worn jeans and a soft black tee, and Stiles would like to get his hands on that right now, so he leaves his comfy chair, scrambles onto the couch and drops into Chris’s lap, stealing a kiss. He still can’t quite believe he gets to do this. “Anyway. Why is Peter so happy about tomorrow?”

”You’ll see.” Chris wraps his hands around Stiles’s hips, holding him firmly in place. He smiles, wide and lazy, and arches a brow as he rocks up against Stiles, the bulge in his jeans obvious. “Now it seems like you’re looking to start a little something, sitting there all pretty in my lap. So, you wanna talk about Peter, or you wanna fool around?”

Damn, his voice makes Stiles melt every time, and he finds himself nodding, even though he’d really only intended to make out a little. “Wanna fool around.” Chris tangles a hand in Stiles’s hair and pulls him in for a bruising kiss, and all thoughts of Peter and tomorrow and Halloween fly right out of Stiles’s head.

Later, Peter joins them, and Stiles doesn’t ask him why he’s so happy because he gets distracted riding Peter’s dick. And after that, when he’s sated and sleepy and Peter carries him upstairs (and will that ever not be the hottest thing ever?), he can’t quite form the words to ask. He hazily thinks that he’ll find out tomorrow. He just doesn’t see what the big deal is about September.

 

* * *

 

Stiles hears the alarm’s shrill tone, and promptly ignores it. He has an afternoon shift today, and knowing that, Chris had nudged him into a round of sleepy sex at 2 am. Stiles was just awake enough to enjoy it, the warm press of the body behind him, the fluid roll of Chris’s hips, the filth Chris murmured in his ear as he fucked him nice and slow. He fell asleep afterwards to the feeling of Chris wiping him down with a warm cloth.

He extends a hand forward but Peter’s already gone, just the traces of his body heat clinging to the sheets. Moments later, he feels Chris unfurl against his back and leave him as well, and he whines at the sudden coolness. Chris leans back in and kisses him before pulling the blankets over him and tucking him in. Stiles would happily stay there for another hour, and he nearly dozes off to the sounds of his guys in the shower, but then Peter’s nudging him awake. Stiles opens his eyes to the sight of Peter absolutely _beaming_. “Sweetheart, get up. I have something for you.”

Stiles sits up, running a hand through his hair and squinting at Peter. “Wha?’

Peter kisses his forehead. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy, baby. But it’s the first of September, and do you know what that means?” He doesn’t wait for Stiles to reply. “It means _Fall_. which means a whole new range of scarves, and gloves, and coats. And do you know who looks stunning in fall fashions?”

“Um, you?” Stiles hazards a guess, hardly able to comprehend what he’s hearing. Peter’s excited for _scarves?_

“Me,” Peter confirms with a smug nod. “But this year, I thought you could probably do with some new clothes as well. You have the height for long coats, baby.”

Chris comes back into the room then, carrying a tray with three mugs. “Peter,” he growls, “You said you weren’t going to wake him. We were up late.”

Peter waves a hand dismissively. “Obviously you didn’t believe me, because you’ve bought our boy a coffee.” He takes Stiles’s Batman mug from the tray and hands it over, and Stiles closes his eyes and moans as he gulps the coffee down. Once he’s finished the mug, he turns his attention to Peter, feeling a little more awake.

“So, you woke me up because you’re excited for fall and you bought me clothes?” 

Chris huffs out a laugh. “Baby, you have no idea. Peter’s such a slut for fall fashions.”

“Excuse me, I’m only a slut for you and our boy,” Peter objects mildly.

Chris ignores him and continues. “Peter has a strict internal calendar that won’t let him wear the new seasons’ range until it’s officially the new season, and he’s been half in love with one of the new jackets for about a month now. I’ve seen him holding it in the stockroom. I think he was offering to take it out to dinner.”

Peter shoots Chris a decidedly unimpressed look. “Rude. After I stayed back last night and redid all the storefront displays, too.”

“Like you’d ever let me mess with your precious display,” Chris snorts. “ I might use an ' _unsuitable pallette_.' ”

Stiles bats at Peter with one hand. “I didn’t wake up to listen to you two bicker. You said you had a present. Gimme.” He makes grabby hands, to emphasize his point.

Since they’ve moved in together, Stiles has gotten a lot more comfortable with accepting random gifts from his partners – he’s come to understand that the urge to provide is a wolf thing, especially as they buy gifts for each other just as often as they do for him. Peter’s far and away the worst culprit, but Chris has also been known to slide his share of parcels Stiles’s way.

Peter presents Stiles with a smallish box - well, smallish by Peter’s standards. When he opens it, he finds it has several richly colored scarves in it – not heavily patterned, but obviously quality. There’s a deep blue, a vibrant plum, and several in autumn browns and oranges. Stiles drapes one around his neck, and Chris lets out a rumble of appreciation. “Oh, baby. That really does bring out your eyes.”

Peter nods smugly. “I knew it would.”  He hands over a larger box. It has several long sleeved sweaters in there, lightweight fabrics that will be just enough to keep away the chill in the air, all in shades to match the scarves. Stiles notes that they’re all scoop necks, designed to show off his collarbones, and he smiles to himself. Werewolves – they’re nothing if not predictable. Stiles runs them between his fingers, feeling the luxuriousness of the weave.

He slides the scarf off and shrugs into one of the sweaters, completely unsurprised to find that it fits perfectly. He leans forwards and kisses Peter. “ I love it. Almost worth being woken up for.”

Peter arches the Hale eyebrow of disapproval. “ _Almost?_ ” He turns and grabs the last box. “It was my duty to wake you, Stiles. I couldn’t bear the thought of you going to work on the first day of fall and not looking as good as you deserve to.”

“You don’t want me wearing the plaid hoodie,” Stiles interprets correctly. He’s had the thing forever, Scott bought it for him as a joke one Christmas, and Stiles freely admits that it’s butt ugly, but it’s also comfy as hell. He's seen the way it makes Peter’s eye twitch when he wears it, so he does it now just to stir him up.

“Your fashion choices are your own to make, but it is getting a little worn out,” Peter says with a completely straight face, only the tiny tic in the corner of his eye betraying him.

Stiles decides to get his revenge for being woken early. “Maybe I’ll keep these for weekends. They seem too good for work. I’ll just keep wearing the hoodie, since my choices are _mine to make_.”

Peter’s eye twitches again, and he breaks. “ _Please_ , Stiles. If you love me at all, throw that thing away. It physically pains me to see you in it. The colors are all wrong for you, and the shape of it’s just...” Peter throws his hands up in frustration, still clutching the last parcel.

Stiles laughs far harder than he should, and grabs the box from Peter. He stops laughing when he opens it, his breath taken away by what’s inside. He pushes the blankets aside and stands so he can hold the coat up and appreciate it properly. It’s deliciously soft, and has a subtle check woven through the fabric, but style wise it’s a classic men’s three button coat. It’s gorgeous, and the length is perfect, just skimming his knee when he holds it up against himself. He can’t resist slipping it on and striking a pose, head tilted back as he gazes into the distance. Peter’s eyes are sparkling as he takes in the sight, and Chris lets out a long breath. “Fuck, baby. If you ever give up working for Harris, you should model.”

Stiles snorts, ruining the effect completely. “Nah. Can’t keep still long enough, and I probably smile too much.” But he holds the compliment close, and tucks it away for later examination. He’s still always pleased and surprised when his wolves tell him he’s attractive, and he hoards those compliments like dragon’s treasure, to come back to on those days when his brain tries to make him feel bad about himself. He slips the coat off and examines it thoughtfully. “I really like it, but it’s pretty fancy,” he observes.

“It is – it’s for when I want to take you out and show you off,” Peter agrees. He hands over one more box. "This one’s more your style for everyday, I think.”

Stiles opens the package to reveal a knee length burgundy parka with a hood. He grins widely. “Yeah, this is definitely me. I take it back. This was worth waking up for. Thank you.”  

“Welcome, sweet boy,” Peter purrs before kissing Stiles hungrily. Stiles is enjoying it too, until Chris interrupts them.

“Peter. Work, remember?”  Peter pulls away and grumbles under his breath about never being allowed to have any fun as Chris shepherds him downstairs for breakfast, leaving Stiles surrounded by boxes and grinning stupidly. Peter really does go overboard, but Stiles can’t say he minds.

 

* * *

 

 

Watching Peter get dressed is entertaining as hell – he’s just so damn excited.  The box he brought home didn’t only contain clothes for Stiles – Peter pulls out a variety of shirts, scarves, gloves and coats for himself. “What, no beanies?” Stiles teases, and gets a death glare in return. Peter hums as he dresses. Stiles takes a minute to identify the song, but when he does, he snickers. “Are you singing ‘ _September_ ’ right now?”

“Absolutely,” Peter’s voice sails out of the walk-in wardrobe where he’s putting the finishing touches to his outfit in front of the full length mirror.  Chris rolls his eyes from where he’s standing by the door waiting, eyes flicking down to his watch repeatedly. Finally, Peter emerges, arms spread wide. “Well?”

Peter looks magnificent. He always looks good, but somehow, he’s taken it to a whole new level. He’s wearing charcoal suit pants, a burgundy shirt and a matching charcoal waistcoat, but the main attraction is a knee length black slim cut light wool overcoat. It’s not a standard collar, but rather it stands up, and Peter’s tucked a lightweight dove grey scarf around his neck like a cravat. The coats unbuttoned, and when Peter spins around slowly Stiles catches glimpses of a satin lining in deep purple. Peter looks absolutely edible, in Stiles’s opinion. He steps forwards and slides his hands onto Peter’s hips, pulling him close. “Damn, look at you. I kinda wanna fuck you on this coat.”

Peter’s smile could light up a small town. “I told you, fall fashions are my friend.” He glances at Chris. “Are we going? We’ll be late, Christopher. Why are you just standing there?”

Chris doesn’t even bother arguing, instead following Peter down the stairs with a roll of his eyes.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles goes to work that afternoon, he wears one of the new sweaters. It definitely highlights his collarbones, and it looks good when paired with dark jeans and chucks. He debates wearing one of the lightweight scarves, but decides against it – he has a feeling his wolves would rather see his neck all exposed, and he doesn’t have any hickeys this week, so he doesn’t have to hide his throat.

He goes in early so he’ll have time to stop in at HA, and when he approaches the storefront he’s blown away. There could be no doubt in anybody’s mind that it’s officially Fall – Peter’s set up a massive display of lightweight coats and jackets, scarves, and shirts, all in browns and russets and purples and deep blues. He’s scattered artificial autumn leaves artfully on the ground and even suspended a few so it looks like they’re falling gracefully to the ground.  Stiles doesn’t know why he’s so surprised – he knows that Peter’s an absolute perfectionist, but he still stares in awed silence for a few minutes before he goes inside.

Chris is serving, but Peter sees his expression and grins at him, waving him over. “You like it?”

Stiles lets out a long breath. “It’s  amazing - I didn’t know you could do that. That’s some next level shit.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Peter steps a little closer, his eyes drawn to Stiles’s exposed throat. “Don’t you look delicious like this?” he murmurs, quietly enough that the other customers can’t hear. “Maybe I could take you out the back right now, nibble on that perfect skin that you’re showing off. Maybe lick you a little.” He leans in even more.

Stiles shoves him with a laugh. “Nope. I have work, so you’ll have to wait till tonight.” Peter pouts a little but then Stiles adds in a sultry tone, “ I meant what I said. I really do want to ruin you on that coat – think how nice that satin would feel against your skin, slipping and sliding every time I fucked into you.”

Peter’s eyes widen a fraction before he regains his composure. “It’s a four hundred dollar jacket, Stiles. I’d have to think about it. It’s dry clean only, and you do tend to make a mess.”

Stiles doesn’t have time to discuss it further, so he gives Peter a quick kiss before he goes to work. Scott’s not working, it’s just him and it’s not busy, so he spends a fair chunk of the afternoon exchanging increasingly filthy texts with Peter, until in the end Peter strides over with a determined glint in his eye, drags Stiles out to the lunch room, and blows him right there. It’s quick and dirty, both of them on edge after the texts they’ve been sending, and it’s a good thing too, because not five minutes after Stiles tucks himself in and catches his breath, Harris stops by. Peter just leaving, wearing a satisfied grin, and Harris watches him suspiciously. “Why is he so happy? Has he been over here stealing coffee?”

“He hasn’t touched the coffee,” Stiles answers, completely honestly.

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles gets home from work, he finds Peter naked on the bed, the coat laid out beneath him. Stiles’s eyes light up, and he starts to toe off his shoes, but Peter holds up a hand. “Not so fast, sweet boy. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I was going to fuck you on the coat? Isn’t that why you’re lying there?” Stiles pauses with one shoe still on and his jeans unbuttoned.

Peter runs a hand over the satin lining and hums. “ I said I’d _think_ about it. I could probably be persuaded, if you were to do one tiny thing for me.”

“Uh huh.” Stiles is instantly wary – Peter’s wearing his _trust me_ face, a sure sign he’s not to be trusted.

“I’ll let you lay me out on this beautiful piece of clothing, and do whatever you want to me, on the condition that you throw out that terrible hooded monstrosity.”

Stiles kicks off his other shoe and does his best to stalk over to the bed. He knows he’s not as good at it as his wolves, but he doesn’t care - this feels like a stalking occasion. He crawls up the bed so he’s looming over Peter, and leans down into his space. “ _Deal_.”

Peter looks exceedingly pleased with himself, but once Stiles starts kissing him, his expression becomes one of want. Stiles keeps kissing him, touching him, teasing him, before rolling Peter onto his front and opening him with those long, clever fingers. When Peter's whimpering and begging for Stiles to _just fuck him already_ , Stiles finally eases in, slow and steady. He’s in no rush, fucking Peter nice and deep, both of them happy to savor this. Since Peter blew him only hours earlier, Stiles is able to hold out a lot longer than normal, so by the time Stiles is close, Peter’s come twice, is edging towards a third, and is a happy, panting wreck beneath him. Stiles finally speeds up his thrusts, and then Peter’s clenching around him as he comes again, dragging Stiles over the edge and leaving the lining of the coat streaked with white.

It’s not deliberate, but he definitely makes a mess of the coat when he pulls out. Or rather, he adds to the mess Peter’s already made.  He’s too tired to care, and Peter’s not much better, both of them in a post-orgasmic haze. Peter doesn’t bother to object when Stiles rolls them over so he’s the big spoon, bringing the coat with them to use as a blanket, wrapping them up in their own little bundle of contentment and jizz.

They only wake when Chris comes home and walks in to find them still wrapped around each other, sated and sleepy and sticky. Chris unwraps them gently and nudges Peter awake. He gives a low whistle when he sees the white streaks marring the satin. “How many times did you two come on this thing?”

“Many,” Stiles yawns out. “Many, many.”

Chris leans down and scents them, his wolfish behavior sending a thrill through Stiles. He loves this side of his guys, loves it when they give in to their instinct. “Smells like it,” Chris observes. “Even if you dryclean this thing, you’ll never get that smell out.”

Peter makes a dismissive sound. “It was worth it. I managed to get our boy to agree to throw out that plaid horror, in exchange for fucking me into satin. I feel I won on both counts, really.”

“Um, about that,” Stiles starts.

Peter cranes his head around to look at Stiles. “About that _,_ _what_? You’re not keeping it, surely? You promised to throw it out!”

Stiles’s lips twitch as he struggles to keep a straight face. “ I kinda…already did? I threw it out this morning before I went to work.” Peter’s mouth opens in disbelief, but Stiles just shrugs. “What? It was like five years old and ugly as sin. I mainly only kept it because it annoyed Scott – he bought it as a gag gift, so I pretended I loved it. He hates it worse than you do. And I mean, I don’t live with him now, so the joke’s run its course. Plus, it was getting kinda ratty.”

There’s stunned silence for a moment, and before Stiles knows it he’s on his back, pinned under an extremely indignant werewolf. “ _You little shit_.” Peter leans in and nips at Stiles’s collarbone sharply, making him yelp and leaving definite teeth marks.

Stiles tilts his head back in apology, knowing what it does to his wolves when he exposes his throat. For good measure, he adds a breathy, “Sorry, Alpha.”  Peter nuzzles deeply against his throat, and Stiles can hear the growl he lets out. “Will it make you feel better if I ask both of you fuck me on it? This thing may as well smell like all of us,” he adds.

“Damn, baby, I like that idea,” Chris croons, already stripping off his tie and jacket.

Peter’s face is still buried against his throat, but Stiles hears a muffled ”…yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

It turns out Chris makes the most unholy noises if you wrap his dick in satin, and then rub it just right.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, I’m not dropping it off,” Chris says firmly, eyeing the come-stained overcoat. “You two made most of the mess, and I want to be able to look our drycleaner in the eye.”

“Stiles can do it, it was his idea.”

“Oh hell, no. You’re not pinning this on me. I’m not the one who got come in the _pockets, Peter_.” Stiles glares at Peter, arms folded across his chest. Peter glares back, but Stiles won’t budge. In the end, they flip a coin.

 

* * *

 

 

The drycleaner Peter uses is more expensive than their regular one, and not as thorough, but Stiles doesn’t think Peter really minds. Stiles watches Peter bury his nose in the collar and inhale the mix of the three of them when he thinks nobody’s looking, smiling to himself.

It’s Peter’s favorite fall coat.

 

 

[He does look good....](https://www.instagram.com/p/_XnuwkuDfZ/?taken-by=ianbohen)

**Author's Note:**

> This doc was named Jizzcoat for the longest time.....


End file.
